Jet Plane
by Little Octopus
Summary: Arthur and Alfred have a very complicated relationship. With a fake girlfriend and the press always around, they can't be like any other couple. Then, on a rare couple's trip to America, disaster strikes. Will their love be strong enough? UKUS


**Jet Plane**

**~.~ I don't own Hetalia.**

**Ages for this fic are:**

**Arthur: 25**

**Alfred: 20**

**UKUS for this fic and some pretty hard feels if I do say so myself.**

**And I don't want any 'That could never happen' comments please, it's merely a story and I've never actually been on a plane or had someone crash in a plane. I have just seen the movies, so please keep those types of comments to yourself. I know that some of these things could probably never happened.**

**Enjoy!**

~.~

Alfred stares at the gray wall in front of him. He hears Arthur shuffling around the bedroom, but Alfred doesn't turn to watch. It hurts to see Arthur putting on the business suit. It hurts to pretend not to be in love with the man.

Arthur works as the president of some company. Alfred has never cared to learn the name, or what Arthur does. He blames the company for the situation he and Arthur are in.

Since Arthur is the image of the company, he has to be perfect. That means he always wears his suits and always keeps face. However, he does keep his messy hair, to Alfred's delight. Apparently, the female population loves the messy blond locks Arthur sported, much to Alfred's displeasure.

Not only does Arthur wear suits and look good, but he has a girlfriend. Being the one of the most wealthiest and powerful men in England, Arthur can't let them know he's gay. Especially since he works around men all the time. Even though he only has one love, the gay stereotype of hitting on anything with a penis was strong. So, Arthur had hired a girlfriend. He had built an apartment for her behind his and Alfred's house (read: mansion) so it looked like the fake couple lived together. Alfred was glad he only saw the woman on TV.

"Love." A warm hand is placed on Alfred's hip.

Alfred pretends to wake up before turning and smiling at Arthur. "Hm?"

"Have you seen my suitcase?" Arthur asks, his face forlorn.

Alfred feels his stomach twist and clench. "N-no. Why?"

Don't leave.

"Ludwig called. I have to go to Scotland for a few days to settle a firm there." Arthur sits beside Alfred and caresses his side.

"Oh." Alfred sits up and leans against Arthur. "I haven't seen it." he whispers, digging his fingers into Arthur's suit. He doesn't care if he ruins it.

It's very early. The sun hasn't even attempted to make an appearance. Shouldn't Arthur be wondering why Alfred 'woke up' so easily?

Arthur sighs and stands. "Alright. I'll be right back. Why don't you start breakfast?" he smiles. "I can eat with you before I have to go."

Alfred grins. "Really?" With Arthur's nod, he shouts, "Okay!" he jumps out of bed and yanks on a pair of sweatpants before bolting down the stairs, not caring if the staff sees the love marks splayed across his neck, chest and lower back.

Since Arthur is loaded, Alfred rarely cooks. And when he does, it's usually ramen noodles. So to cook _for_ Arthur, Alfred feels his heart pounding like a high school otaku when senpai notices her.

In the kitchen, with the big shiny silver stoves, pots and pans, Alfred shoos the cooks out. They give him confused looks, but when Alfred tells them to take the day off with pay, they are happy to leave.

Alfred swings open the large doors to the fridge and starts pulling out all the stuff he would need. It has been so long since he cooked, he wants to make everything. But since he's not sure how long Arthur has, Alfred decides to make eggs and bacon with toast.

He cooks quickly and sets the table. As he's dishing out the food, Arthur comes into the kitchen, suitcase and briefcase in hand.

"It looks wonderful, love." he says.

Alfred hears the unsaid 'but'. He doesn't say anything, just sets the pan down and hides his tears by turning his back to Arthur.

"But Ludwig called. I have to go now." Arthur sets down his bags and picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite before moving to Alfred. "I'll see you in a week."

Alfred turns then. "A week?! You said it was only a couple of days!" he lets his tears show now. Maybe the guilt will make Arthur stay

"I know, love, but more stuff came up." Arthur wraps Alfred tightly in a hug. "I'll be back before you know it."

Don't leave.

"Alright." Alfred buries his face in Arthur's suit, maybe Arthur would stay if it gets soiled with his tears.

Please. Don't leave me.

Arthur places a kiss on the crown of Alfred's head before moving to the kitchen door.

"I'll walk you out." Alfred offers. He follows Arthur through the kitchen. He clings to Arthur's hand.

Arthur! Don't make me beg.

At the door, tears pour freely from Alfred's innocent blue eyes. Arthur smiles sadly and wipes them before embracing Alfred tightly.

"I'll call you when I get there." he whispers, stroking Alfred's honey-colored hair.

"A-and every night." Alfred says. He looks up at Arthur's green eyes. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Kiss me and smile for me?

Alfred doesn't let Arthur go. Finally Arthur stoops the slight two inches and kisses Alfred lovingly. It won't be long until Alfred has to lean down to kiss Arthur.

When Arthur pulls away, he gives Alfred's cheek a caress. "Wait for me?"

Alfred smiles through his tears and hugs Arthur like he will never let go. "Always." he kisses Arthur's cheek and slowly releases the man before running up the large grand staircase behind him. He won't be able to let Arthur go if he watches the sandy blond open the door.

In their bedroom, Alfred curls up on Arthur's side of the bed. He monkey-hugs Arthur's pillow. His tears dry eventually, but he still doesn't move from his spot.

It's not until Arthur calls that Alfred realizes he hasn't eaten all day or even seen the sun.

Alfred clears his throat before he picks up his phone. "Hello?"

"Alfred." Arthur's voice was stern. Alfred immediately went over what he could have done. Nothing came up so he just asked.

"What did I do?" he sits up and hugs the pillow into his lap.

"The maid called me. She said you haven't left the room all day." Arthur said.

Alfred was still confused. "And?"

"You can't lock yourself up like this every time I leave. What would I do if I came back to your rotting corpse in our room because you didn't eat?!" Arthur's voice raised slightly, but he quickly reined it in. "You're going to make yourself sick doing this, Alfred."

Alfred sat in silence. How could he explain to Arthur what being left like? How could Arthur begin to understand the loneliness and emptiness he left Alfred with?

Arthur spoke after a solid two minutes of the faint phone static. "I'm going to call in some food for you, okay? I don't want to have to babysit you, Alfred."

"Alright." Alfred hates the way his voice cracks.

"Hey, don't be upset. I'm just worried." Arthur chides. Alfred hears rustling in the background noise. He imagines Arthur lounging on the bed of one of is expensive penthouse suits. "How about, when I get back, we go on a trip?"

That makes Alfred a bit perkier. "Like where?"

"A big city. With really tall buildings. And I think a green woman holding a torch lives there..."

Alfred gasps. "New York?!" he jumps up on the bed. "Seriously, Arthur?"

"Seriously. We'll spend a week or so there. Sound good?"

Alfred hops up and down on the bed, not really getting high because of the tempurpedic mattress. "Arthur! That sounds amazing! I haven't been home in like two years!" he leaps off the bed and to the walk in closet. "We can see Miss Liberty! And the Pentagon! And and, Arthur!" he yanks down his dusty suitcase and flings it open.

Arthur laughs. It's light and musical to Alfred. "Yes, we will do all that. We'll go right when I get home, alright?"

"Alright." Alfred pauses in his packing. He still has a week before he needs to pack.

"Oh, got to go. Ludwig is yelling." More rustling in the back. "I'll call you tomorrow. And you had better eat the food when it's delivered."

"Okay." Alfred slumps back to his heels. "I love you."

"I love you too." Arthur hangs up the phone, leaving Alfred in silence.

~.~

Arthur arrives two days earlier than expected.

Alfred had been sitting in living room, binge watching The Walking Dead. He sits with his old blanket pulled up to his face. Only his blue eyes are showing, his glasses reflecting the gruesome episode before him.

Arthur walks up behind Alfred, shaking his head. The boy always watches the zombie shows when Arthur wasn't around. The result is a midnight phone call and a hysterical Alfred-shouting into the phone that Arthur needs to come home_ right now_.

"When will everyone just die?" Arthur asks after about five minutes.

Alfred screams, almost high-pitched enough to shatter any glass in the vicinity. He leaps from the couch only to get tangled in the blanket. He falls flat back on the floor before locking his arms over his head. "Don'teatmedon'teatmedon'teatme!" he sobs.

"Alfred!" Arthur moves quickly to the fallen American's side. "It's me! It's alright, pet."

Alfred lowers his arms to gaze wide-eyed at Arthur. Then he takes in a deep breath and continues shouting, "Why the fuck would you sneak up on someone like that?!"

"I've been behind you for quite a few minutes!" Arthur snaps back. He runs his hands over Alfred's head, checking for the goose egg he was sure to be there.

"I thought you were a zombie!" Alfred cries, his hands finding Arthur's shirt and digging in.

Arthur sighs. Alfred could be so ridiculous sometimes. "Sorry, love." he whispers, kissing the bump on Alfred's head.

Alfred nods into Arthur's chest before jumping back. "You're home early!"

With a rare grin, Arthur hugs Alfred tightly. "Took you long enough!"

"I was in zombie shock!" Alfred locks his arms around Arthur's neck and begins kissing up his jaw. "I miss you, I miss you!"

Arthur chuckles and suppresses a shiver. Alfred's breath ghosts in his ear.

Alfred lowers his head. His chin parallel to Arthur's collar bone. He flicks his eyes up to Arthur. The Brit leans back slightly to gaze back at Alfred.

"I miss you." Alfred breaths, pushing up from his knees. His face centimeters from Arthur.

"I missed you." Arthur whispers back before planting a kiss.

Alfred moans and pulls Arthur closer and closer. Six days had been way too long.

Arthur lowers Alfred to his back, the blanket making a cushion for his head as Arthur rakes his fingers through Alfred's hair.

Shifting slightly, Alfred brings his fingers up to Arthur's button down shirt. Pawing Arthur's chest until he finds the buttons, Alfred begins his quick decent down the fabric. He pushes the shirt off Arthur's shoulders, his fingers stroking the smooth skin he finds there.

Arthur sits up slightly to drop the shirt to the floor. He then descends on Alfred's chest, realizing that Alfred is wearing one of his old worn out shirts. He brings his eyes up to Alfred and the American blushes.

"I-I was just... lonely, and..." he bites his lip and turns his head.

Suddenly, a warmth spreads through Arthur's chest. Alfred could have cheated on him or even gone out clubbing, but instead, he had worn Arthur's shirt to watch a zombie show. Arthur crushes his lips against Alfred's and quickly tore off the Americans pajama pants and boxers.

Forcing his mouth open, Arthur plunges his tongue into Alfred. Moaning, Alfred wraps his arms around Arthur's neck, bringing his hips up to grind against Arthur's slacks.

Not bothering to strip completely, Arthur whips his cock out. He breaks the kiss and dives his fingers into Alfred's hot mouth.

Alfred moans around the fingers and closes his eyes. He coats each finger. Arthur watches with heightened interest as he pumps himself.

Deeming the fingers slick enough, Arthur pulls his hand back and presses a digit against Alfred's entrance. Alfred clenches his jaw as Arthur works a finger in. Then another.

Alfred opens his mouth and releases a delicious moan, making Arthur shiver.

"Arthur..." Alfred gasps. "Hurry... please."

With a nod, Arthur retracts his fingers and coats his aching erection with what left over saliva he had on his fingers. Aiming himself at Alfred's pleading hole, Arthur plunges in quickly. Alfred arches off the blanket, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Fuck..." Arthur breathes. He buries his face in Alfred's neck and waits a few heartbeats before holding Alfred's hips and thrusting into him.

"Nngh! Hah... A-Arthur..." Alfred wraps his arms tightly around Arthur's shoulders. His back is already being rubbed raw from the old blanket. After Arthur gets a steady pace, Alfred begins to meet his thrusts. His mouth hangs open in a drawn out moan.

Arthur ducks his head to lavish Alfred's chest and neck. He leaves marks and bites everywhere his mouth touches.

Alfred's legs feel like jelly as Arthur lifts one of his knees to the sandy blond's shoulder. Arthur kisses the soft tissue of Alfred's thigh as he pushes himself into the American faster.

Pain and pleasure rush up Alfred's body and he feels his chest tightening. He closes his eyes and let's Arthur have at him. He doesn't care that his own needy cock is screaming for attention. He doesn't care that as Arthur gets more excited, the more pain he feels. He only cares that Arthur is pleased. Arthur had saved him from a terrible home and given him everything. It's the least he can do for the Brit. Considering cooking is out of the question, all Alfred can do is love and be loved by Arthur. Frankly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Not that it matters that Alfred's leaking erection is being ignored, once Arthur brushes against that little walnut sized spot, Alfred comes across his chest with a scream, his face flushed red at the thought of how much like a girl he must look right now. However, Arthur doesn't seem to care. With a growl, he slams against Alfred, making his shoulders slip off the blanket entirely to rub against the carpet. Alfred continues to moan.

When Arthur comes, he holds very still, his hands shake against Alfred's hips and he can feel the sandy blond's shoulder trembling. Once finished, Arthur tilts Alfred's hips up, practically bending the American in half. Arthur stands and pulls out slowly, holding Alfred's legs.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Alfred asks, slightly uncomfortable.

"I don't want to ruin your blanket." Arthur says, his face serious.

Alfred giggles. He has had the blanket for as long as he can remember. Various food and mystery stains litter the thing, why would Arthur want to keep some semen off of it? "Why?" Alfred grins.

"Because it's special to you." Arthur replies. He reaches for Alfred's pajama pants to wipe the American with, but Alfred wriggles and his butt lands right on the blanket. "Al-"

"You're special too, you know." Alfred shivers as the hot fluid streams out and touches his cold skin. "You can be a stain on my blanket." he smiles sleepily as Arthur grins and shakes his head.

"Not too many though. I won't want to cover that giant chocolate stain." Arthur takes the pajama pants and wipes Alfred down before shifting him off the blanket. He tosses the fabric and the pants to a corner. A maid will pick it up in the morning.

"I think that might be barbecue sauce." Alfred leans against Arthur's legs.

With a laugh, Arthur scoops him up. "What on earth could you have been eating?"

"Chicken wings..." Alfred rests his head against Arthur's shoulder. "Or ribs."

"We need to talk about what you eat on the couch." Arthur makes his way up the stairs.

"At least my blanket caught it." Alfred says grinning.

"Still." Arthur kisses Alfred gently, warmly.

Alfred sighs and feels his toes tingle. "I love you." he whispers. "Stop leaving."

Arthur sighs. Alfred knows he can't, yet he asks that question every time he comes home. It always makes Arthur feel like the bad guy. Instead of telling Alfred off, however, Arthur just kisses his forehead. "I love you too."

~.~

"Do we need to go over the rules one more time?" Arthur asks, hand on the door knob.

Alfred sighs dramatically. "No. I'm your cousin visiting from America and you're escorting me back. No hand-holding or kissing." he might have pouted. "Or practically any contact of any kind." Okay, he was pouting.

"I know it's hard, Al. But I can't lose my job because my boss is thick-headed." he leans over and kisses Alfred firmly on the mouth. Only the maids, cooks and Arthur's hired girlfriend know about Alfred and Arthur's relationship. If any news of them gets out, Arthur could lose his job, house and ultimately everything he owns. It was depressing he couldn't be with his lover in public, but he couldn't risk Alfred going to live in a slump.

Arthur could handle living in poorer conditions, but he knew Alfred wouldn't be able to go back to a home like that.

Alfred had grown up in foster homes. His mother left him with his drunk of a father. From birth to eight years old, Alfred was raised in a filthy home with garbage for carpets. He was placed in foster care at the age of nine. Throughout the years, he never found a family that wanted his energetic attitude or his fear of being alone forever, and the older he got, the less of a chance he got to be adopted. The last home he went to before he turned eighteen was Arthur's parents house. Arthur, being 23, didn't meet Alfred until a month before his eighteenth birthday. It was the best month either of them had spent.

After Alfred's birthday, Arthur told him to just move in with him. They had been inseparable ever since.

"Alright." Alfred sighs then smiles. "Let's go before our plane leaves!" he swings open the door and the bush _jumps_ at him! There's a flash and Alfred yelps. He drops his bags.

"Hey!" Arthur shouts, snatching the bush by its... shirt? "What are you doing?" he asks.

Alfred shrinks away at the scary voice Arthur lapsed into.

"Just getting my paycheck!" The bush-man shouts. A camera hangs around his neck.

"And what did you plan on finding here?" Arthur drops Bush-man and he glares from his spot on the porch.

"I had to find out what was with you and the boy." he yanks out some photographs.

Alfred leans in to inspect the pictures and finds they're all of him with or without Arthur. Alfred eating with Arthur. Alfred opening the curtains to their bedroom in Arthur's shirt. Alfred sitting outside on the porch. Alfred and Arthur on the couch, the angle of this photograph was their profiles but with the tilt of Alfred's head, it was obvious he was leaning against Arthur's chest. He grabs the photos and steps away from Bush-man.

"What are you trying to prove?" Arthur growls out.

"That you're a poof and lying to everyone!" Bush-man shouts.

Arthur raises a fist, like he'll punch the man, but lowers it and sighs. "How much to keep you quiet?" He asks.

"Five grand." Bush-man grins like he has the upper hand.

Arthur rolls his eyes and leans in the house. Alfred hears him shouting for one of the maids to get Bush-man his money. When a maid arrives, Arthur looks at Bush-man. "She'll take care of your petty needs. And I expect you to leave us alone." Bush-man nods and Arthur turns to Alfred. "We're going to miss our flight." he says, picking his bags back up and moving to the waiting car.

"Right." Alfred smiles then looks at Bush-man. "Can I keep these?"

"Whatever." The man was salivating over the crisp hundred dollar bills.

Alfred grins and tucks the photos away. Arthur never let him take pictures in case they got leaked out somehow. Not even on Alfred's phone. So he was planning on keeping these stalker photos close.

~.~

Alfred sleeps for about an hour into the plane ride before he wakes up with a little problem. He pulls the blanket he had draped over himself more closely and looks at Arthur for help. The sandy blond was reading and didn't pay Alfred a single ounce of attention.

Fidgeting, Alfred nudges Arthur until he puts a piece of paper on his book and looks at the American. "What is it, Alfred?" he sighs.

Alfred gulps and presses his hands against his growing groin, but it only causes him to gasp. "I-I need something." he whispers.

Arthur raises a thick eyebrow and waits for Alfred to continue.

"Will you meet me in the bathroom?" Alfred asks hopefully. Maybe they could do a quicky on the plane. There are two bathrooms right? No one would notice if two different people went to use the bathroom.

"What?" Arthur snaps quietly. "Why do you need to have an erection at a time like this?!"

"It just happened!" Alfred leans forward and presses his chest against Arthur's shoulder. "Please?"

"Absolutely not." Arthur glares. "Go do it yourself and behave or we'll get right back on a flight home."

Alfred feels his usually smiley face frown. "You don't need to treat me like a baby."

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't act like one." Arthur turned his eyes back to the book.

Alfred snatches the book away. "I wouldn't have to if you gave me an ounce of your attention!"

"You're making a scene." Arthur hisses, horrified that Alfred's voice keeps raising.

"You're just like all the others!" Alfred stands and shoves past Arthur's knees to the isle. "You don't give a flying fuck about me but expect me to respect and treat you right?!" The other passengers were staring now. Arthur glares daggers at Alfred. "Well, news flash, sweetheart! I have feelings too and it's not right for you to ignore me 360 days a year! And sometimes all 365 of them!"

"Alfred," Arthur stands. "Stop. We'll talk about this in New York."

"There you go scuzzing me off _again_!" Alfred feels the eyes on him. He also feels the heat of tears building. "I can't keep this up, Arthur." Alfred finally lowers his voice. "I can't keep loving you this way."

Arthur feels like a football was pelted right at his gut. "Alfred-" he doesn't get to finish what he's saying. A rough patch of turbulence sends him back into his seat and Alfred into the isle across from him. Static comes on the overhead, but the pilot says nothing.

Alfred hears screaming coming from the front end of the plane and turns to see what the commotion is. However, instead of seeing it, he begins to slide to the tip of the plane.

They're going down over the sea.

"Alfred!" Arthur shouts, leaning against the seat in front of him as Alfred slides down the isle.

The blond turns on his stomach and throws his hand out. "Arthur!" he screams as the plane picks up speed.

Screams fill the air and it's like there is no gravity. Everyone is suspended in midair. Roaring and sirens blare into the small space. Alfred tries to grab onto something, but the plane starts to be ripped apart.

First the wings, then the windows, taking the oxygen with them. Alfred turns his gaze down when he hears a ripping sound, to find a crack in the metal separating himself and Arthur. Alfred feels tears running freely down his face. Is the last thing he is ever going to say to Arthur is he can't love him anymore?

Arthur stretches his hand out further. It's a fruitless attempt, Alfred's too far away. As the plane separates, Arthur gets one more glance of Alfred calling out and reaching for him.

The plane falls into the ocean split clean in half. Alfred plunges into the cold water before he starts swimming. He didn't get a breath before he hit, and he bellyflopped it from god knows how high, but with debris falling, Alfred needs to pull through it and swim somewhat away.

When he comes up for air, Alfred about cries when he sees one of the seats bobbing in the water. He swims to and climbs into the seat. He turns his eyes upward as the lighter stuff begins to get closer. The bigger stuff landed with Alfred thankfully and sank as he swam from the crash area. Spilled oil burns on top of the waves. Then, Alfred realizes it's strangely quiet except for a ringing noise. A never-ending tone.

He lifts his head and looks around. People are flailing around, their mouths and eyes open wide in terror as their loved ones sink in the frigid water. Alfred swallows, he hears it echo in the back of his throat, so he's not deaf, is he?

Finally the ringing stops and Alfred can hear the screams and the waves crashing.

At that moment, Alfred realizes he doesn't see Arthur. He whips his head back and forth, looking for the messy blond hair. Alfred's chair isn't the safest place to be, but he is out of the water. He just hopes Arthur can fit. And that he finds Arthur before the waves take him.

The plane begins to sink, pulling down screaming and bloodied people in strong whirl pools.

Alfred get pulled toward the current, but luckily he stays afloat.

He begins his search for Arthur. There are about ten people around him. Six are floating on debris, two of those six have missing parts. The other four float face down in the water. Alfred brings his knees closer to his chest. He doesn't want to touch the green-red water

"Arthur!" Alfred shouts. "ARTHUR!" he repeats the cry until his voice is hoarse and the sun begins to set.

Around that time, Alfred figures it's time to go over himself. With his adrenaline dying down, he begins to feel the bruise and scratches. He examines his arms and finds a few red marks with blood beading slowly... He pats down his back and neck, then his stomach. That's when he screams.

Sweat drips into Alfred's eyes as he lifts his shirt. His stomach is swollen. Nausea and dizziness hit Alfred like one of the sea waves. He gingerly sets his shirt down and shifts in his chair before crying out again.

What was happening to him?

He glances around at the other survivors. They're staring at him, probably wondering why he was suddenly freaking out like he was. He looks back down to the water. No one could help him, so why look at them like they could?

After catching his breath, Alfred began to think the crash over. He and Arthur were in different sides of the crack in the floor, so Arthur was most likely on the opposite side of the crash site.

If he had made it out alive.

Alfred grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking that way. Arthur was alive and floating like he was. Maybe even frantically looking for him.

He takes another breath and tries to remember if he had seen Arthur land anywhere. He hadn't seen Arthur fall, but he did remember falling way from the blond, turning in midair and bellyflopping into the water. Maybe that was to blame for his stomach pains.

Time passes alowly, and before Alfred knows it, the sun is down and he's shivering violently. His eyes dart around the wreckage, not sure what he's looking for. He's just looking. Looking for _something_. The awful pain in his stomach doesn't stop. It's the only thing keeping him from falling asleep.

The moon is bright on the water. Alfred stares at the other passengers as they fall asleep and slip into the water. Two died that night. The others were able to wake up when they hit the water and climb back on to their floating devices.

Strangely enough, Alfred is still sweating from the day.

When the sun rises, Alfred is all but screaming constantly. Instead, he pants loudly and cries out about every two minutes. Holding his stomach doesn't help, nor does stretching it out or curling up. Alfred writhes about his airplane seat.

A few hours pass and Alfred vision becomes blurry. He's hungry, but his stomach does not rumble. He's tired and calm but his heart is pounding frantically in his chest. Almost like it was begging for air. He feels that his lips are chapped and bleeding. Makes sense, he could go for a nice glass of water.

Eventually, his legs end up slipping into he water and his head is lolled back. At this time, he is crying. He's going to die and he'll never see Arthur again. The last thing he'll ever tell Arthur is that he can't love him anymore. With a sob, Alfred turns his dull blue eyes to the sky, with an almost silent sigh, he prays to whatever god may be listening. "Please. Let Arthur know I love him." he doesn't know if his words even made it to his mouth. He closes his eyes.

When he opens his eyes again, the sun is blocked out by a big bird. He blinks twice before hearing the thundering of a helicopter. Ropes fall out from the sides and people begin descending into the water. Alfred watches numbly as the two surviving people across from him are met by the people. They seem to talk for a second before they are lifted.

A man lands next to alfred, balancing on the armrests of the chair. "Are you hurt?" He shouts. His accent is from New York.

Alfred tries his best to nod.

"Alright." The man takes an orange board from his back and unfolds it before letting it float in the water. He lifts Alfred, who cries out weakly. "Just hold on." The man says, laying Alfred gingerly on the floating orange gurney. He straps Alfred in and clips the ropes attached to him to the frame.

They go into the air slowly. Alfred glances down at the wreckkage. The plane is almost gone and he sees a few other men getting more survivors.

Once in the helicopter, medics cover Alfred, trying to see what's wrong with the young American.

Alfred looks around the cramped space. He has to be here. He has to.

"There's one more." A voice says through a cackling radio. "He's pretty stubborn. Do you have an Alfred on board? Alfred Jones?"

"Alfred?" The co-pilot shouts from her seat. "We need an Alfred."

Tears pool on Alfred eyes and he somehow lifts his hand. The medic hovering over him calls back. "I got him!"

The co-pilot turns back to the radio. "We have an Alfred!"

Two minutes later Arthur steps through the door. His hair is caked in dried blood. He glances around before spotting Alfred tied to a gurney and an IV swaying beside him. The blond rushes over and descends on Alfred's chest, making him scream.

Arthur jumps back quickly. "Wh-what's wrong with h-him?!"

The medic presses his hand against Alfred bloated stomach. "He's bleeding internally. We have to operate now." They begin to pull curtains around Alfred, shutting Arthur out.

"Alfred! Al-Alfred!" he shouts.

The American can only sob as he watches his lover disappear again.

~.~

Alfred wakes up when they land in New York. They say he'll be stable long enough for him to get to a proper operation room. They lift him out of the helicopter and cameras flash in his face. He closes his eyes and winces at the lights.

"Back o-off!" Someone roars. Alfred opens his eyes to see Arthur standing over him.

Doctors try to push pass the mob with Alfred's gurney, but a woman rushes forward. "What is your relationship with the American, Mr. kirkland?" She asks, then holds a recorder to Arthur and alfred.

Alfred looks at Arthur and he sees the same question in Arthur's eyes. Alfred reaches a hand out to stop the doctors from pushing him, then he takes Arthur's fingers in his own. "I'm sorry." he strains out, his throat like sandpaper.

Arthur clasps their hands together more firmly before kissing Alfred smack on the mouth.

Cameras go off like crazy around them. Their flashes hurt Alfred's eyes, even if they are closed as he lifts his head a tad higher to Arthur's.

Slowly, the Brit pulls away and runs a finger down Alfred's cheek. "L-l-let's never fight like th-that again."

Alfred nods. He's beginning to feel very tired. Arthur nods at the doctors and they rush into the hospital.

~.~

_"Her name was Lola,_

_She was a show girl_

_With yellow feathers in her hair_

_And a dress cut down to there."_

Alfred scrunched up his face. Who the hell was listening to Copacabana?

_"She would merengue and cha-cha,_

_And while she tried to be a star,_

_Tony always tended the bar."_

Okay that needs to stop. Alfred opens his eyes and squints at the light above him. After smacking his lips a few tomes, he managed to croak out "Off."

A shadow appeared over his little light and Alfred could see a smirk. "I-I knew you would w-w-w." A pause. "Wake up if I played that."

"Arthur?" Alfred rubs his eyes as the light comes back on and Lola and Tony shut up.

"Good m-morning, pet." Arthur sits beside him and grasps his hand.

"How long have I been out?" Getting used to the light, Alfred squints at Arthur. Now everything is blurry. Damn glasses were probably in the middle of the ocean chilling with the Titanic.

"Th-three y-y-y." Arthur stops. "Years."

Alfred's eyes widen. "What?!" Did his voice get higher too?

Arthur grins. "I-I was kidding. It was o-only a c-couple h-hours."

"Oh." Alfred blinks at Arthur. He has a line of stitches peeking just above his eyebrow then disappearing into his hairline. "Your head?"

"I'm fine, Alfred. H-how do you f-f-feel?"

"Why are you talking like that?" Alfred begins to sit up and winces as pain tears through his stomach.

Arthur stands and presses his hands to Alfred's shoulders."L-l-lie down."

"_Arthur_." Alfred's eyes beg the Brit for an answer.

After a moment, Arthur sighs and sits down in a chair beside Alfred's bed."I h-hit my head in the cr-crash." he bites his lip and Alfred holds his hand out, Arthur quickly grabs it. "Th-the doctors say I'll h-have a st-stutter for the rest of my life."

"Oh, Arthur." Alfred instantly feels guilty for talking so smoothly. He tries to sit up again but Arthur's presses him against the pillows.

"D-don't move, l-l-love." Arthur runs his fingers through Alfred's hair. "Y-you have intense bruising a-and you were bleeding i-in-int." Arthur pauses. "Internally. You shouldn't m-move to much."

"But-"

"B-but nothing!" Arthur snapped, his voice taking on a stern tone. "You are v-very hurt and you should n-not be moving for u-unnecessary reasons!"

Alfred pouts. "But I want to hug you."

Arthur's face falls. "Alfred." he leans across the bed and pulls Alfred against his chest.

Alfred hides his wince in Arthur's chest.

A nurse walks in then, she shoos Arthur away and fiddles with Alfred's wires and monitors.

"U-uhm, do you h-happen to have a n-newspaper?" Arthur asks tentatively.

The nurse throws him a look before moving outside the room. She comes back moments later and drops the paper by Arthur's feet. "Someone will be in with some food later." she says stonily before leaving the room.

Alfred harrumphs. "She was rude."

Arthur picks up the paper and sighs. He drags a hand down his face. "I-I think I kn-know why."

"Hm?" Alfred tilts his head.

Arthur holds up the front page of the newspaper. Their faced are plastered over the cover, their lips locked desperately. Above their heads, in big black letters, reads "Businessman Arthur Kirkland; Big Liar!"

He sighs and skims through the passage. "It's saying that I have lied to everyone and that protests are going on about my job." he runs a hand through his messy hair, exposing more of his stitches. "Ludwig has been calling me all day."

"Your phone made it?" Alfred asked.

"No, I got a n-new one." Arthur tossed the paper into the waste basket. "I called Ludwig to let him kn-know I'll be back to work soon. He said something about a newspaper and I hung up. Haven't a-a-answered him since."

"Oh, Arthur." Alfred pouts. Arthur shouldn't lose his job over something like a kiss. He's sure someone can cover it up.

"Don't worry, pet." Arthur smiles and leans his forearms on Alfred's bed. "I'll find a job. We m-might need to move, but I'll make sure to support you."

"But with all these medical bills-"

"I'll use what's left of my ch-checking account to pay them." Arthur picks up Alfred's hand and kisses it fondly. "You just get better." He stands. "I-I h-have to make some phone c-calls."

~.~

Alfred left the hospital two weeks later. After a tense flight from the New York hospital, they land in England. Outside the airport manages to crawl into a rented car and watches Arthur struggle with a loaned wheelchair. Alfred drops his gaze to his lap, unable to watch Arthur without helping.

Finally, with the wheelchair in the trunk, Arthur drops in the driver's seat and smiles at Alfred. "E-excited to be g-going home?"

Alfred nods, he quickly grabs Arthur's hand. When they got home, they would need to begin to pack. Arthur had many threatening letters sent to the house and he couldn't bear to leave Alfred alone in the house in case someone acted upon those letters.

The drive is silent, both somber about packing up their house and leaving all the memories behind.

Alfred squeezes Arthur's hand often. They get to the house and Alfred hesitates before opening the door, not waiting for Arthur to help him.

"Alfred." Arthur warns, getting out of the car and jogging over to Alfred.

"I can do it." Alfred mumbles, gripping the hood of the car, his other hand against his stomach.

"H-Hold on, let me get the wh-wheelchair-"

"I can do it!" Alfred snaps, making Arthur freeze.

The Brit swallows before closing the trunk. "Right. O-of course you c-c-can."

Alfred makes a move away from the car. He pitches forward. Luckily, Arthur is there to catch him. With frustration pooling in his eyes, Alfred allows Arthur to lead him through the lawn and into the house.

The immense house is empty when they enter. Everyone had quit upon Arthur's secret being revealed. Even though the entire staff knew, they couldn't have their names dragged through the dirt with Arthur and Alfred.

Arthur closes and locks the door. "W-We can set up a bedroom for us d-d-down here until we move. I don't want y-y-y-" Arthur pauses. Alfred can see the pain on his face. The humiliation. "You on the stairs."

Alfred nods and gestures to the couch, he suddenly feels out of breath. Arthur lowers him to the cushions.

"Are you hungry?" The sandy blond asks.

Alfred shakes his head and closes his eyes. Nausea swims in his stomach but he refuses to succumb to it. He could be strong. If Arthur can handle a stutter, Alfred could handle the bile in his throat.

"Okay." Arthur lowers himself gingerly beside Alfred. Two heartbeats later, Alfred falls into Arthur's lap, his face burrowed against his hip.

"We'll be okay, right?" Alfred asks, tears forming. It was terrifying. He would be leaving the best house ever to... who knows where. He won't be able to work until he is fully healed and Arthur won't be able to get a job that involves communication.

Arthur smiles gently and cards his fingers through Alfred's hair. "W-we'll be just fine."

Alfred raises his head slightly. "Kiss me? And smile for me?" Arthur kisses Alfred against his forehead.

"Always, p-pet."

Arms encircle Arthur's waist. The blond sighs and gazes at their lovely living room. They'll have to sell most of this stuff, he realizes. Downsize. He holds Alfred tighter. What if the American gets sick of living with him when he has to work too? Even if that is a stupid reason, Alfred can leave Arthur for them losing everything. Then he remembers, Alfred had waited for him most of their relationship, no way he would leave now.

Alfred shifts in Arthur's lap, his breathing becoming steady. Must still have some morphine coursing through his veins. Arthur sighs and cradles Alfred gently.

They'll be just fine.

~.~

**Author's note: Cheesy ending is cheesy. I have had this thing since like September so take it!**


End file.
